


Careful What You Wish For

by Annie46fic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Major character death - Freeform, Unhappy Ending, Wish Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie46fic/pseuds/Annie46fic
Summary: A magic Monkey’s Paw that grants wishes – yeah right. Dean has seen this sort of thing a hundred times before.  The first time he tries it, it’s for a joke. The next time he’s serious, but can it really bring someone Dean loves back from the dead? (A Supernatural take on the old tale of the Monkey’s Paw).





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the warning/tags - this fic is not a happy one!
> 
> This was written for the [SPN Horror minibang over on LJ](http://spnhorrorbang.livejournal.com/).
> 
> Thanks to my artist [Lennelle](http://lennelle.livejournal.com) for the suitably creepy art! Please go and give her kudos [here](http://lennelle.livejournal.com/10357.html) Thanks also to the mods for thinking this up! Awesome challenge - I've loved it!

“What the hell is that?”

Dean was feeling comfortably fuzzy headed after an unknown number of beers, and he’d been considering escaping to his room. It’d been an awesome evening but he didn’t have the stamina he used to and, looking at his watch, he realized that it was almost 3am and they’d been drinking since 9.

Jody Mills grinned at him, teeth white in her flushed face; her feet were crossed at the ankles resting on the table and her chair tipped dangerously back. She toyed with her beer bottle and, with the other hand, pushed the wizened object towards him.

“It’s a monkey’s paw,” she said. “Pretty hideous, yeah.”

Sam, who looked as if he had been surreptitiously dozing, reached across the table and picked the thing up. It looked surprisingly small on his massive palm as he pushed it back and forth with long fingers.

“It’s fuckin’ mummified.” Sam’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Just where the hell did you get this?”

“Friend of mine.” Jody righted her chair and took another swig of beer. “Bit of an explorer, if truth be known. Got back from some godforsaken corner of Africa, and brought this with him.” She shuddered. “He couldn’t wait to get rid, and I told him I had _connections_ , y’know, occult experts and all that.”

“I’m not surprised he didn’t want it.” Dean took it out of Sam’s hand. It felt odd; it was cold against his hot skin, and just touching it made him feel nauseous.

“Yeah – well – Will wasn’t the superstitious type, but he said he didn’t want the thing near him a moment longer. He told me that I should just throw it on the nearest fire."

“But you didn’t.” Dean dropped the thing back onto the table as if it had bitten him. “Why was that?” He asked.

“Well . . . , “Jody smothered a yawn and shook her head. “Apparently it is a charm and . . . .” She grinned again. “It’ll grant you three wishes.”

“Yeah, right!” Sam laughed. “We’ve been there, and done that.”

“You’ve seen this sort of thing before then?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” She shot a glance at the shrivelled thing on the table. “Another paw?”

“Nah, a lucky penny.” Dean said and barked out a wry laugh. “You remember that, Sam? Back in Monument in that Chinese restaurant. Fucking sandwich made me sick.”

“The wishes went bad,” Sam gave Jody a quick explanation. “There was a fucking giant bear, who liked watching porn.”

“I don’t think I wanna know any more.” Jody smothered another yawn. “In fact on that enlightening note I’m gonna find my room and hit the sack.”

“I’ll escort you.” Sam wobbled to his feet and put a big hand on her shoulder. “See ya in the morning, bro.”

Dean waved him off; he was pretty damn certain he’d be following them soon and he finished off his beer with a contented belch. For some unknown reason he couldn’t take his eyes off the paw. It still lay on the table where he’d dropped it, but he felt a weird compulsion to hold it again and, against his better judgement, he took it in his hand and held it up to the light. 

It really was a repugnant thing, and it was hard to believe it had once belonged to a living creature. Just looking at it made his skin crawl and he couldn’t comprehend why. In his long years as a hunter he’d seen some shit things, things that would haunt another person’s dreams for years. Nightmare things. He’d been to Hell, and he’d done time in Purgatory. He’d seen headless corpses, cadavers’ with no limbs at all, and half eaten bodies that were once human. To be honest, he didn’t think anything could affect him any more, but this paw . . . .

Could it really grant wishes? Dean knew that there were more things in Heaven (and he’d been there too) and Earth than could be explained away. He’d done more exorcisms and spells than a hunter twice his age, and he believed in the power of prayer. He’d met God and conversed with the Devil. He’d survived the Apocalypse, and put the Darkness back in her pit. There should be no reason to be afraid of a withered piece of dead monkey and he laughed at himself.

“Maybe I should test it,” he didn’t know why he was speaking out loud but the sound of his own voice echoed oddly around the empty room. “Yeah, if I ask for somethin’ stupid . . . .” he bit his lip. “What harm could it do?”

He held the thing in his hand, balancing it on the palm. It still felt weird and he swallowed down bile. He tried to think of something harmless, something stupid.

“I wish I had two hundred dollars,” he intoned and held his breath. For a moment the bunker seemed to grow darker, a strange scent filling his nostrils; the scent of rotting flesh sharp and obscene. He almost leapt out of his skin as the paw appeared to twist in his hand, and he dropped it with a squawk, stepping away from it and shaking his head. “Fuck, Dean . . . ,” he said to himself eventually. “You really need to stop drinking.”

Feeling foolish he went to the kitchen and got a pair of oven mitts from the stove. He picked the paw up in them and deposited it into one of the cabinets where Sam collected supernatural objects that they had picked up over the years. If he’d had one of Bobby’s old curse boxes he would have used it, and he closed his eyes for a moment as if he could will the thing away.

 

****

 

_He was in a place he didn’t recognize; dark and hot, a strong smell of green leaves and thick loam. Something swooped high over his head but he couldn’t see anything as he stumbled blindly on trying to get somewhere. Anywhere. His heart thundered loud in his chest. Noises, alien and strange, filled his ears and he fumbled in his back pocket for a weapon. Visions flashed like sudden lightening in front of his eyes; Sam dead with a knife in his back. Sam in hell, his skin flayed from his body. Sam with no soul smirking at him with bloodied teeth. He shook his head trying to clear it, running now, and panting harsh in the back of his throat. Loud cries echoed around him and he thrust his hands over his ears shouting out. Something crashed through the trees towards him, a creature with yellow eyes and sharp, sharp teeth. It raised its arm and blood spurted from its empty wrist._

 

For the first time since he’d ganked Amara Dean woke screaming.

 

****

 

“You look like warmed over crap, Dean.” Sam pushed a cup of coffee towards him, his hazel eyes were dark with concern and Dean felt almost guilty for putting that look on his brother’s face. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“No, I just a bad night,” he lied hoping Sam wouldn’t see through him. “Nightmares.”

“Didn’t think you still had those.” Sam sat down, munching on a banana. “Not now things have quietened down.”

“Late night snacking and too much beer, Sammy.” He forced a smile on his face. “Where’s Jody?” He asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Still sleeping. She’s gonna stay a couple of days; play some poker, cook somethin’ nice,” Sam said and chuckled, distracted. “Anyhow where’s that hideous paw? I thought it was here last night.”

“I put it somewhere safe.” Dean swallowed down bile. “Didn’t wanna be lookin’ at that thing over breakfast.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty gross. Were you tempted to use it?”

“Nah,” the lie tripped glibly off his tongue and Sam just nodded pushing his messy hair back from his forehead with a huff. “We all know that wishes turn bad. I’m not going down that road again.”

The day passed slowly. He went out for a while, an irrational longing for fresh air but outside the bunker it was thick and oppressive; the sky dark and cloudless. Lightening skittered across the grey, and rain poured down, harsh droplets stinging his face and soaking his hair. 

When he got back inside, Jody was hunched over the stove and the whole bunker smelled divine. For the first time all day his stomach grumbled and growled, and he almost smacked himself for being so stupid, for letting that fucking paw get to him so much.

They ate dinner and drank beer. He welcomed the normality, the fact that he and Sam were on the same page, happy and healthy, survivors of yet another monster attack. It was nice to laugh, to throw his head back and let the joy bubble out of his throat. Last night, the paw, and his dreams all faded away as he concentrated on his cards, and the joy of beating his brother.

He couldn’t believe his luck, Jody tossed in her chips and shook her head. 

“Too much for me, Winchester,” she said and sighed. “You certainly have somethin’ on your side tonight.”

“If I didn’t know you better I’d swear you were cheatin’.” Sam threw his cards down in mock anger. “It looks as if you are. . . .” He picked up Dean’s chips and ran them through his fingers. “Around two hundred dollars up.”

“What?” It was as if someone had poured cold water over his head. “These are just stolen casino chips, dude. They don’t mean anything.”

“Nah.” Sam was chuckling, cheeks flushed with beer and whiskey, voice slurring a little like the lightweight he was. “You should be rewarded for your good fortune.” He reached into his pocket and pushed a wad of cash towards him. “Two hundred dollars – I’ve been saving up for a while now. Couldn’t happen to a better guy.”

“I don’t want your money, Sam.” Stupid panic made him push the money back, grip his brother’s wrist to stop him. He couldn’t understand why he wasn’t laughing about this, why he wasn’t telling Sam what he’d done. He’d wished for two hundred dollars and here it was, in a pile of dirty bills that had spent months in Sam’s pocket. He didn’t know why the realization made him want to vomit. It was weird, and he felt as if his mind might explode. He didn’t want to put those bills in his own pocket; it was like he’d been cursed rather than have his wish granted.

“Dean?” Sam’s eyes were on his face suddenly sharp, the slur in his voice gone in an instant. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah . . . this is just for fun, right?” He swept his hand sideways and knocked the chips down. “I don’t want your money, Sammy. Just put it away.”

Sam made a clicking sound in the back of his throat. Beside him Jody looked awkward, her eyes on Dean as if she’d never seen him before.

“I’m goin’ to bed.” Dean got up abruptly and pushed himself away from the table. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

He saw Jody and Sam exchange glances and he felt both anger and shame but he kept moving; a sudden and irrational longing to be in his room, somewhere he could hide from feeling sick to his stomach and, more alarming, absolutely terrified.

 

****

 

“I’ve found us a case.” Sam caught his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen searching for coffee, his head was aching and his mouth as dry as dust. He was aware that he looked like shit and he loathed being the person who put those wrinkles in his brother’s forehead, and that dent between his eyebrows. “You look like you need to get out of here,” he continued gently. “I know how much a hunt gets your blood flowing.” 

“Carry on,” Dean said and allowed himself to be turned around so that he could look his brother in the eyes. “Tell me more.”

“Two bodies found in Sioux Falls. Bite marks around their throats, and their hearts missing. One hundred percent certain it’s a werewolf case. Came through on Jody’s radio this mornin’. She’s gonna come with because – y’know, she knows the place.”

“Sounds good.” Dean poured out his coffee, bitter and black. “It’ll be nice to see the old place again. A lot of good memories.”

“I miss him too.” Sam’s gaze softened and he gave Dean’s shoulder a squeeze. “But things move on, and everything is pretty good right now. Don’t ya think? No big bad bearing down on us. Both of us alive and kicking.” Sam grinned. “Sioux Falls should be a blast.”

Dean agreed. He glanced at the cabinet where he’d left the paw. He wished he’d put his lighter to the thing, but it was too late now. He’d do it for certain when he got back from hunting Weres. He had no idea why the thing had gotten to him so badly, and he wasn’t about to hang around and find out. 

Two hours later and they were in Baby coasting down the highway, ACDC playing loud in the background, and Sam’s expected complaints ringing happily in his ears. The day was bright and the sky a beautiful azure blue. Jody tailed them in her own car, and they’d just eaten the best damn diner lunch he’d had in a while. He had nothing to be worried about, and he had to laugh to himself at just how foolish he’d been.

A fucking wizened monkey’s paw that granted wishes, what a fucking joke! Thank God Sam would never know how much he’d freaked out, or else he’d have to endure his teasing for months, even fucking years, to come.

 

****

 

As usual the research part of the case was boring and better left to Sam. They had their Fed suits, and they shadowed Jody questioning witnesses and getting a feel for the case. After all they’d endured recently this particular hunt was a piece of cake, and Dean polished his silver bullets and sharpened his blade excited to be doing something.

The moon was full and hung heavy in the sky turning the darkness silver. Dean leaned against the rock that was shielding them and gave his brother a shoulder nudge, happiness surging through him, all concern about paws and wishes forgotten. He should have known though the Winchesters never get a break. In that moment, when everything was so wonderful, so perfect, he kinda’ forgot and what happened next would turn the tide of his life forever. If he’d had even an inkling of the horrors to come, he would have turned tail, jumped in the Impala and driven to the ends of the Earth.

 

****

 

The _thing_ came out of nowhere. It leapt at Sam before the younger man was even ready, taking him down fast. Dean had seen his brother hurt before, seen him shot in the fucking gut but he’d never heard Sam make a sound like that; a high pitched scream, full of terror and agony both. He could hear Jody running through the undergrowth, and he cocked his gun as he burst into the clearing aiming the weapon at the creature’s head. 

It was bent over Sam’s prone body. His brother wasn’t making any noise now, legs hanging limp, blood stained boots flopped to the side. There was the sound of flesh being ripped, bones cracking and the thing had something in its mouth. Dean aimed his weapon and shot once making sure the bullet would impact the creature’s chest, and bury itself into its heart. Jody cried out and he turned to the sound of her voice. It was the wrong thing to do. Something hit him firm in the face, hard and painful, and he wobbled for a moment. He tried to stagger towards his brother’s body, and then darkness took him down.

 

****

 

The cloying scent of disinfectant told him he was in a hospital. He could hear the distant bleeping of monitors but it was too dim for him to see anything much, and he breathed in deeply. He must have been on some pretty good stuff because he couldn’t actually feel a thing and his limbs were too heavy to move. 

“Sammy . . . .” His voice sounded hoarse and he wasn’t too surprised when there was no reply. His memory was fuzzy, indistinct. He guessed his brother must be somewhere else in the hospital, sorting out insurance, and giving the doctors bullshit. He must have slept again because when he opened his eyes the second time there was someone sitting beside his bed and he tried to move his head, frustrated by his total lack of movement.

“Sammy . . . ?” A hopeful question but the hand on his arm told him that this was not his brother. The hand was small and rough, but obviously female. “Jody.”

“Dean,” her voice was so gentle. “Just lie still. You’re hurt badly, but you’re gonna be fine.”

“Did we get it?” He couldn’t remember, and it was painful to even try.

“Yeah, it’s dead. They both are.”

“There were two of them?”

“From what I could make out, the remains of a pack. Yeah,” she was virtually whispering and he could hear something else in her voice.

“Where’s Sam?” He couldn’t understand where his brother was. It was not like him to even take Dean to a hospital, let alone vanish like this.

“Dean . . . .” Something dropped onto his arm; a tear he thought, warm and wet. “Sam . . . Sam’s dead.”

“Dead?” His heart jolted hard in his chest and it was like something opened in his mind. The thing on his brother, ripping him apart. “But . . . .”

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” A sob burst from her and he heard her fumble for something, a handkerchief perhaps. “There was nothing anyone could do,” she swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

He tried to push himself up on his elbows, almost weeping with frustration when his body disobeyed.

“I wanna see him,” he choked out. 

“No.” She gripped his arm. “They have him in the morgue. When you’re better they’ll need your permission to release the body, but for now, its best you don’t,” she said and swallowed again.

_Sammy_. He didn’t say it out loud, unable to process. He remembered their last werewolf case, how he’d thought Sam was dead, and how he’d tried to make a deal. He had no idea if Billie had come for his brother, or where Sam was but he did know was there would be no deals this time. No comebacks. Sam was gone. Sam was really gone. He felt the wetness on his cheek, uncontrolled tears tricking down into his nose and mouth. He thought that he might drown in them, a mercy killing. Jody had said he’d be fine, but he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t ever be. Not with his brother dead.

 

****

 

Jody had wanted him to go home with her but he insisted they went back to the bunker. He’d left hospital AMA, and they’d refused to let him see Sam. His brother’s body was still in the morgue, still waiting for Dean to give him a hunter’s funeral. He couldn’t. He still couldn’t wrap his head around Sam being dead. He wasn’t sleeping or eating, and his mind kept replaying all the other times he’d seen his brother die; stabbed in the back in Cold Oak, jumping into the pit in Stull, and shot in the stomach during their last Were hunt. There was desperation in the pit of his stomach, like he couldn’t rest. He couldn’t accept it. Jody had insisted on coming back with him, and he knew why. In his bedside cabinet was a handgun and a bullet with his name on it. He wasn’t figuring on hanging around for long without Sam.

 

****

 

He woke in a cold sweat. It was the first time in days that sleep had claimed him, but he hadn’t been under long. Some lingering nightmare hovered at the corners of his mind and he felt sick to his stomach gazing into the dark as if he was searching for something . . . Sam.

It came to him fast. The paw lying deep in Sam’s cabinet. The paw that granted wishes. Sam trying to give him two hundred dollars - a stupid wish that had come true.

He stumbled through the bunker afraid to put on a light, afraid he’d wake Jody and she’d try to stop him. His head was spinning. Why hadn’t he thought about this before? It wasn’t a deal. There wasn’t any souls involved, and no reapers to interfere. Sure Sam would be pissed at first, but once he’d explained. He found his way to the cabinet and clicked on his flashlight; bizarre objects illuminated in the bright orange light, the paw sitting there, still repugnant, still cold and clammy on his palm. 

“I wish Sam alive again,” he whispered. “I want Sam back from the dead.”

The thing jumped in his hand, seemed to twist, the wizened fingers of the claw twitching closed. He swallowed hard and kept it there for a moment staring at it then he let it drop from his hand and he followed it down, sitting on the floor with a thump as his flashlight went out and darkness swallowed him.

The bunker was as silent as the grave. Not a sound reached his ears as he sat hunched on the floor waiting. It had been an hour since he’d made the wish, and there was nothing. He looked up to where the stairs wound their way up to the door. It was hard to make out anything in the oppressive gloom but he stared anyway, his stomach aching with longing.

“What are you doing?” Jody appeared in the doorway, the light sudden and bright behind her. She wore an old dressing gown, her legs were bare, and her hair and eyes wild as she stared down at him.

“I’m waiting,” he sounded insane even to his own ears. “I’m waiting for Sammy.”

“Dean,” Jody’s voice sounded a long way away. “What did you do?”

“I wished.” He tilted his chin towards the paw lying almost innocently on the bunker floor. “I wished . . . .”

The light behind Jody flickered and Dean saw her exhale of breath turn into white steam. Above him there was a thump, loud and strident and, after a pause, another.

“It’s Sam!” He was on his feet in a second. “What was I thinking? That fucking hospital is almost two hours away!” He was almost running to the bottom of the stairs, heart thundering. “Sammy,” he whispered.

Jody grabbed his arm. Her face was paper white, and her eyes dark with real fear.

“Dean, that’s not your brother.”

“Yeah.” He almost fell over the paw. “I wished . . . I wished for Sam.”

The door rattled hard against the force of the next thump. Jody’s neck twisted as she stared upwards, her lip caught under her teeth, and her whole body tense. 

“I saw him, Dean.” She was holding his wrist hard and tight. “The thing ripped him apart. His face . . . there was nothing left of Sam,” she gulped. “He’s been lying under that mortuary sheet for over two weeks.” She glanced upwards again. “It isn’t Sam.”

“You think I’m afraid?” He shook her off, fierce and determined. “You think I’m afraid of my own brother?”

Above them the door rattled again and then there was a strange keening sound, the noise of nails being scraped hard against the metal. The lighting flickered on and off, and the air turned ice cold. Dean began to take the stairs two at a time, his breath catching. He had to get to the top, he couldn’t keep Sam waiting. Sure, Sam would be angry. Pissed for a while, but it was Sam – there was nothing to be scared of. It was just Sam.

Behind him he heard Jody scrabbling around on the floor. He heard her whispers of terror and pain. He looked back and saw her lift the paw, saw the utter dread in her gaze. She had been there when the thing had gone for Sam, she had been there when the ambulance had taken them both to the hospital, and she had gone to the morgue and identified his brother.

“I had to get the Fed card out of his wallet,” Jody’s voice was loud, pitched so he could hear it above the thumping, the scratching, and the inhuman keening. “To identify him, Dean. He . . . please . . . ,” she was crying now and the paw rested against her shaking palm. “Don’t!”

He began to scrabble with the bolts, manually struggling with the locks that were normally controlled by computers, hard to open with his trembling hands. He wasn’t scared of his brother. He wasn’t scared of Sammy. As he struggled, somewhere in the back of his treacherous brain was a warning that was over a decade old and he shuddered.

_’Are you sure what you brought back is one hundred percent Sam?’_

He could barely hear Jody’s voice over the racket, but he knew what she was saying. He fumbled desperately and the locks gave out suddenly, the doors swinging open just as the keening stopped.

Outside silence reigned. There was the putrid stench of rot. A bloodstained mortuary shroud lay on the floor, a jagged piece of bone half hidden in its folds. A bone that might have once belonged to a human – a piece of jaw perhaps. He heard the click of a lighter behind him and the scent of burning filled his nostrils. He didn’t need to turn around to know what it was. He could hear Jody sobbing fitfully, as the lights in the bunker flashed on.

It was over.

Fin


End file.
